


When in Rome (Or Coming Back From It)

by raven_fucking_reyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Airplanes, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Meet-Cute, slight mention of sea mechanic because I miss Luna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15723654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_fucking_reyes/pseuds/raven_fucking_reyes
Summary: Clarke was planning on sleeping the whole plane ride back to New York, that was, until, the person sitting next to her decided to mess everything up (not that Clarke minded).Or, Bellamy is scared of flying, and Clarke tries to calm him down





	When in Rome (Or Coming Back From It)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first complete fanfiction ever, so I'm sorry if it sucks. If you do choose to stick around and read it, thank you and I hope you enjoy it! I thrive on validation so any kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.

Clarke was fucking exhausted.

 

Then again, two weeks in Rome would do that to a person.

 

She originally applied to the program three months ago at the request of her professor who believed that she had some “real talent, but was lacking in the creativity department, so Rome might reinspire her.”

 

Clarke conceded to the critique; she was going through a slight slump in her art, so doing the program probably would be beneficial. Not to mention, an all expenses paid trip to Europe did not sound like a terrible idea - Clarke wouldn’t be the one to turn _that_ down. So she signed up, never expecting that she would actually get in.

 

About five weeks after submitting her application, Clarke received a letter in the mail telling her she made it. She had about a week to pack.

 

When the day finally came, Raven dropped her off at the airport. “Have fun, and don’t forget get laid by a cute foreigner!”

 

“Noted,” Clarke scoffed.

 

“I’m gonna head to the apartment,” Raven said. “Now that you’re not there, Luna and I can do it in every room whenever we want.” Raven winked and slapped Clarke’s ass. “Bye, Griffin.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and got on the plane.

 

She painted and partied and yes, to Raven’s liking, flirted with many cute Italians, so, as soon as she returned to the airport, all the adrenaline she was running on vanished, and Clarke was simply exhausted.

 

She eventually found her gate, and after she boarded, sank into her uncomfortable seat. Clarke was planning on leaning back, listening to some music, and sleeping for the solid ten hours of the flight. She put in her ear buds and settled back, eyes closed.

 

When the plane started to move, a hand suddenly grasped Clarke’s.

 

Her eyes flew open. Slowly, she pulled her headphones out of her ears with her unoccupied hand.

 

_Great,_ Clarke thought, _I’m either suck next to some kid who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space or some dude who was trying to hit on me but couldn’t think of a pick up line._

 

She placed her bets on the little kid, and snuck a quick glance at the person sitting next to her to figure it out.

 

He was wide-built, dark curls rested messily atop his head, a small scar hovered over the top of his lip, and his golden skin dusted with dark freckles.

 

Simply put, he was fucking hot.

 

Well, at least he would be if he didn’t look like he was about to have a heart attack.

 

Concern grew in Clarke. “Are you okay?” she asked.

 

The man’s eyes opened, his facial features relaxing for a millisecond before embarrassment took place as he realized what he was doing. He quickly retracted his palm.

 

“Sorry.” He apologized, then, muttering, “I just really fucking hate flying.”

 

It wasn’t funny, but Clarke found herself laughing anyway.

 

“If you hate flying,” she started, lowering her voice and looking around like she was about to share a secret just for dramatics, “then why are you on a plane?”

 

This time, it was the man’s turn to laugh. His eyes crinkled at the corners as a broad, toothy grin overtook his face. Clarke’s fingers itched for some charcoal, eager to capture his smile for reasons unknown. She reprimanded herself for daydreaming about the stranger when he returned her gaze and said, “well, you can’t exactly drive a car across an ocean.”

 

“Boats,” Clarke offered.

 

“I get sea sick.”

 

“Man, if you hate all methods of traveling so much, why are you doing it.” He raised his eyebrows, so she clarified, “traveling, I mean.”

 

The man sighed. “My friend forced me to sign up for this mythology convention.”

 

“That has to be the nerdiest sentence ever uttered in existence.”

 

He rolled his eyes before continuing. “We figured I could get over my fear of flying in two weeks.” Clarke gave him a look. “We we wrong. My method was to take a sleeping pill like on my way over here, but they confiscated them at customs.”

 

“Maybe it’s for the best. You wouldn’t have gotten to experience my dazzling personality if you were asleep.”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed.

 

“Did you have fun in Rome at least,” Clarke asked, not wanting the conversation to end, “before, you know, you tortured yourself by getting on a plane?”

 

“Yeah, actually!” he said. “The first couple of days was all lecturing which most people might find dull, but I took a binder full of notes. I was even asked to speak about the comparison of Greek to Roman mythology which, yes, is the most basic topic, but in a room full of seventy-year-old white guys, I felt pretty honored,” the man rambled. “Then, the last two days, the conference was over, but my flight wasn’t yet, so I went sightseeing and . . .” he trailed off. “Sorry, you probably don’t care about all of this.”

 

Clarke was pretty sure she could listen to a instruction manual if he read it, but she laughed instead.  “You’re an even bigger nerd than I thought,” Clarke told him.

 

The flight attendant's speech was almost over, they were talking about water landings or something.

 

Clarke returned her attention back to the man. “Pardon?” she asked, after missing the question.

 

He ran his hand through his thick, messy curls. “Sorry, I just asked why you were visiting here.”

 

“How do you know I’m not from here?” she teased.

 

“You lacked the accent.”

 

“Fair,” Clarke conceded, “but there was actually an art grant at my university. I applied and got in.”

 

“Oh, did you work on anything while you were here?”

 

“Yeah, but I would rather not carry a giant painting onto a plane,” she said. “They’re getting shipped back to my apartment.”

 

He pressed his lips together, panic slowly covering his face again. She quickly became aware of her surroundings.

 

The plane started to move faster, the lights flickered and turned off, and all the flight attendants were gone. Clarke could tell that they were getting ready to take off any second.

 

She turned back to the man. “You can hold my hand again,” then added, “ if you want.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but as soon as the plane started to lift off of the ground, he grabbed her hand and held it tight.

 

His eyes were shut, an almost death like grip on her palm when he said, “I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

 

Clarke smiled and bit her lip. “Clarke,” she answered, rubbing circles over his knuckles. “I’m Clarke.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me @raven-fucking-reyes on tumblr!


End file.
